Wednesday, May 16, 2007

One most always hold on, no matter what. To have good faith and hope in life. Faith is intrinsic, an active choice, not something that is simply there or not. Faith is not simply applied to belief, but is the fount of hope, like a deep spring it gives birth to it. Hope is not something of day dreams, nor a desire of the impossible. It is a grand abstract. Hope is the act of seeing the end of the storm while the wind is still blowing and the rain is still falling.

“The large hourglass in the hall holds sands that when turned fall like Jessica Falls straight to the bottom until turned again. But the falls shall never rise again it is an eternal decent. Like the fallen stars blotted from reality only to live as shadows for ten thousand years, such was my Jessica’s destiny. I can speak for hours in this line, but only string puzzles. This ends like it begins; drowning in the blue blue faraway sea. Of the blue sea I was born, spat onto the sand, lungs full of sea water, skin covered in kelp, my life struggling for air. Once a man of war but now disaster, cast away with hope passing faster than the faraway sun, I was than a dead man. Later she would tell me that the sea gave me to her, that I was a gift for her faith. Her faith that sang on even ends of joy and sadness, lifted, with tired hands, my head to the spoon and fed my heart with fire. Until her i was a dead man.

What holds thee to these desert plains?This land of desolate beings,No milk or honey for thee,Nor gossemer flowing seas No Rosen petals for thy lips Nor water for thy tongue For we are half poured in the sand My sweatest wandering one, We can offer spit for blood One half heart for the whole My fractured eyes, my strength so thin For thy most ponderous soul.

Go flee unto the hills Beyond the toothpick forest Unto the waterwells And the flowers angeled chorus Into the plastic clouds Where heaven meant thee be.

What holds thee to these tombs?And us their mummied cores, No scrap of bread for thy belly,Nor sound to lift thy ear, No Music for thy painted feet, Nor melody for thy tongue, For we are all trapped In this land of perdition.